Arthur Rimbaud

When he died of bone cancer at the young age of 37, Arthur Rimbaud had travelled the world, attended violent and absinthe-fuelled orgies, been shot in the hand by his lover, enlisted as a soldier in the Dutch Colonial Army and deserted, traded in arms, and written a sonnet in praise of the anus. He also pioneered modern symbolist writing and poetry. Misfortune was my God, he wrote in 1873. And here he is, memorialised in his hometown. A town he hated with all of his restless soul.